A Curious Turn
by BreakingTheStrings
Summary: The war has ended, and new opportunities arise. Snape is finally awarded the Defense position he seeks, but who will fill the position of Potions Master? A new kind of battle wages within the very walls of Hogwarts. HG/SS. Sexual content in later chapts.
1. A Request

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I don't own anything actually, except this wild imagination of mine. =)

This would be my very first attempt at fanfiction, but I'm not asking you to pity me. Writing is a passion for me and I want to improve, fanfiction will keep me on my toes, not to mention, I love Harry Potter. So please feel free to review, I'd always like to know what you think.

* * *

It was mid-day, and the bright afternoon sun shone in vibrant rays through a dusty window above the door of a small shabby cottage. The light fought it's way valiantly past the dust and grime that coated the small pane and landed brightly on the upsidedown face of a young woman.

Hermione found herself, once again, lounging in her favorite, most comfortable arm chair, with her feet dangling over one side, and head hanging over the other, wild hair falling to meet the stone floor. Sporadically she would sway her head back and forth and watch the spiraling ends of the bushy substance drag the stone flooring that provided the foundation for her small home. Relaxing like this was one of the small pleasures she allowed herself these days.

She had "borrowed" the chair from Dumbledore's office after the war ended, and he along with it. She felt somewhat guilty, filching the chair, but it was something by which to remember the old wizard whom she had held so dear. It positively screamed Dumbledore, with its midnight blue fabric, decorated sparsely with colorful crescent moons and stars.

After the war, there had been nearly nothing remaining of her previous life, including her old friends. Harry had unfortunately perished on the way to St. Mungo's following from his fiery showdown with Voldemort, from which he emerged the victor. The healers said it was an unknown hex flung in the Dark Lord's dying moments that had done him in. Coupled with the exhaustion he had suffered from releasing nearly all of the magic in his body, they said, even a simple body bind spell could have killed him.

Ron, ironically, lived for a few years after the end of the war. He decided to finally live now that he had no impending danger on his back, and began travelling the world. It was after a trip to Egypt with Bill that doctors diagnosed him with a very rare form of skin cancer. It took only six months for it to consume him completely. Ron had been like the brother she had never had, and the loss had been devastating for Hermione, so much so, that she almost did not attend the funeral. However, after a long talk with McGonagall, and sitting behind Dumbledore's desk for almost three hours debating with herself, she concluded that she would make an appearance.

After the funeral, nobody really saw much of her anymore. It was apparent to all that Hermione had decided becoming a recluse was definitely the life for her; no more of this running around almost getting herself killed business. Though she lived alone, people spotted her occasionally bustling about Hogsmeade gathering things for, well, whatever she was doing out there by herself. There were ridiculous rumors circulating that she was a vampire, or that she had fallen in love with a centaur and they lived happily together in the forbidden forest, never making contact with anyone.

Of course, none of this tittle-tattle was true, and Hermione scoffed at the fact that anyone would believe such things about a sensible girl like her. Really, she had more brains than that! Okay, so maybe she did venture off into the forest occasionally to try and make contact with the centaurs, but that was purely educational! Besides, she could never love any of them; they were too proud, too quick to anger.

What she had actually been up to was a mystery to even Ginny, who now and again brought Hermione supplies for her numerous projects and potions. Ginny didn't at all mind being Hermione's delivery person, it was a pleasure to visit with her, she just wished Hermione would open up to her a bit, tell her what had been going on in her life. After all, they had been close friends before the war. However, she supposed if solitude was what Hermione needed in order to move on with her life, then she would just have to learn to live with it.

As Hermione sat in her favorite position, in her favorite chair, a sharp rapping on the door interrupted her musings. Sitting up abruptly, she furrowed her brow in the direction of the door. She hadn't asked Ginny to bring her anything, as she was taking the day off today. And the person knocking, judging from the location of the sound, was much taller than Ginny, anyway.

Frowning, Hermione stood, and slowly started to pull the wand from the back pocket of her jeans. She padded carefully to the door, reached out a hand but then hesitated. What if it was someone from the ministry trying to offer her a job, it had happened before. Worse, it could be one of her old peers.

Changing her mind, she headed for the rotting back door instead. She pushed it open carefully, and stepped into the night. Whoever was out there was in for a surprise. She circled around to the front of the house, giving it a wide birth. Through the waning light, she could see that it was a man at her doorstep, tall and slender, but she couldn't decipher much else.

_"Alright,"_ she thought, mouth pressed into a grim line, _"ready or not, here I come."_

* * *

Severus Snape had been enjoying his sweet solitude when the Headmistress's head stuck itself rudely from his fireplace.

After a long day of trying to pound information through the thick skulls of his students, he preferred to wind down with an armchair, a book, and a bottle of brandy. He was halfway through the fourth chapter of a popular muggle novel, _The Grapes of Wrath_, when he was startled out of his appraisal by the face in the fire. The book flew from his hand as his muscles twitched in temporary fright, effectively knocking over the bottle of liquor. He sprang from his position and A_ccio_ed the offending novel while attempting at preventing the brandy from dripping onto his carpet.

"Yes, Headmistress?" He spat through clenched teeth, once his heart decelerated enough that he regained the capacity for coherent thought.

"Ah, Severus, Just the man I wanted to see." She sang.

"Obviously, or you wouldn't have flooed to my chambers and startled the beating heart out of my chest_." _He remarked bitterly. His lap was now soaked in alcohol, and the smell was quickly becoming dizzying. He contemplated excusing himself to change, but quickly decided that he would rather get this over with, and the sooner the better.

Minerva's eyes sparkled a bit behind her tiny reading glasses, "Perhaps you should, ah, clean yourself up a bit?" She arched an eyebrow that suggested the smell was offending her delicate nose. Severus rolled his eyes and made a helpless gesture with his hands.

"Honestly, Minerva, will you just get on with it? You've interrupted my reading, and nearly ruined my carpeting, surely it is important, let's hear it!"

"Well Severus, as you well know, I and the other members of the staff are adamant about you teaching Defense next term. This of course, leaves your position as Potions Master regretfully open." McGonagall looked to Severus's face to discern if he was following, was met with a raised eyebrow and a bit of a scowl, and trudged on. "I have a job for you Severus. I want you to find our long lost Hermione--"

"Granger?" Snape cut her off with a growl and an incredulous expression. "Why, she's been gone for years! Why must it be her, isn't there someone else competent enough to take the position?"

The look that he received confirmed his suspicions that, no, there was not, and even if there had been, McGonagall had her heart set on the bushy little brat.

"Is there someone else who can go on your little goose hunt. I'm busy, and I make it a point not to go looking for ratty little Gryffindors when I can ignore their existence instead." He was almost pleading now, and if this wasn't a serious matter McGonagall would have chuckled a bit at his antics.

"Severus, the only other option we have is sending Remus out there, and the full moon is in three days. You know that would be unwise." She looked at him expectantly over her glasses.

"Fine," He sighed resignedly, "alright I'll go, but I can't make any promises. She's avoided the press, the Ministry, the public, who's to say she can't avoid me?" And with that he swept of to bed in an angry cloud of black.

As he was leaving he swore he heard McGonagall mutter under her breath, "Perhaps, she won't want to."

* * *

That was how Severus Snape found himself standing on the door step of a rather run down little grey house. The shutters hung at crazy angles, one of the windows was broken, and the paint was peeling. Overall, it possessed a bit of an Edgar Allen Poe feel. In the dark, at this time of night, it was almost creepy.

When he assessed that no one was going to answer he stepped back from the door. "Perhaps Miss Weasley gave me the wrong directions." He mumbled to himself. Leave it up to a Weasley to do something like that. He scowled in annoyance.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he found himself yanked backwards by his hair. He hit the ground hard enough to loose his breath, and when he came to, there was a small body sitting on him, and cool metal pressed under his jaw. In the dim light emanating from the muggle bulb on the porch, he could make up a mass of wild curly hair floating above him.


	2. Rabbit Stew

I know these first couple of chapters have been short, but I didn't want to just leave the first chapter hanging out there by itself, so I posted this one quicker than I had planned, therefore, it's a short one. I promise that they won't all be this way. =]

I hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" Her voice came out lower and more guttural than she had ever heard it. She sounded like a warrior, although her heart was nearly beating out of her chest. "I don't recall requesting anyone's presence, especially not at," she glanced momentarily at the sun sinking on the horizon, "six o'clock in the afternoon. It's a bit late for tea, is it not?" Her tone had lightened slightly, but her grip on the man's hair and the knife she held him with did not. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes seemed to hold a hardness acquired from days filled with stress and adversity.

After a moment of tense silence, she released her grip on the man's hair and proceeded to remove the chunk of it that was blocking his face, revealing the rather large eyes of one old, greasy, nasty bat. Well, ok, not really that old, or, she had to admit, that greasy, but definitely nasty. Oh yes, nasty seemed to work.

Hermione's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline as her eyes widened, first in shock, then fear. However, she clamped down on this emotion immediately.

"_Foolish girl, he's obviously not come to harm you. Hell, he's not even your professor anymore, keep it together."_

After another awkward moment in which Hermione tried to look apologetic, and Snape tried to look dignified, Snape's eyebrow began to rise slowly, while his pupils followed the opposite path. He gave a meaningful glance toward the knees on either side of his chest.

"Miss Granger, if you will kindly remove yourself from my personage, I would appreciate it. I have a message to deliver from the Headmistress and I doubt I can do that very sufficiently with your bottom squeezing the air from my lungs, nor with my throat slit."

Though it seemed impossible, Hermione's eyes grew even larger as realization dawned on her. She sprang from her position and patted off her robes frantically.

"Oh, Professor, I am just terribly, terribly sorry. You see, usually when someone knocks on my door, well, it's generally not to deliver a message. Most of the time it's someone from the Ministry, or, or….." The words that were tumbling from her mouth rapidly died in her throat when she caught the glare Snape was throwing her way.

"Oh, yes, right," breathily she let out a nervous laugh and extended a hand to her ex-professor. He clasped it firmly and together they hauled him from the ground. She started to reach toward his robes to swipe off the dirt and grass, but though better of it. She didn't exactly feel like loosing a limb today.

As she straightened her spine, she turned marginally to her right, arm, still loosely clutching the dagger, sweeping to the side to indicate the cottage in front of which they stood.

"Well, Professor, welcome to my humble abode. Won't you come in for dinner? It's getting a bit dark out, and surely you must be hungry." She tilted her head toward the door while gazing at him expectantly.

He grimaced a bit, looking down at his soiled robes. "I suppose I must. The Headmistress would have my head if she discovered I had not treated her Gryffindor with the utmost civility. Lead the way, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled a bit, sheathed her weapon, and began the steps that would take her to the front door of her home. Her steps were comfortable, and as Snape observed her, he realized she was barefoot. He could not remember a time when he would have pegged the 'oh-so-sensible' Hermione Granger to be running around with naked feet. He supposed that sometimes war changed people in small, odd ways, as well as large, significant ones. After all, hadn't he changed a bit too?

* * *

As soon as Severus Snape put a foot through Hermione's doorstep, he was already conjuring ways to insult the young woman's home. When he emerged fully into the house, however, his calculating came to a grinding halt. The house resembled nothing of its worn outer shell, instead emanating with a warmth and coziness Severus had not anticipated.

"This is, ahem, rather _nicer_ than the exterior of your home," he seemed to have a difficult time forcing this semi-compliment from his lips, "If you don't mind my asking, why have you not applied this method to the external portion of the cottage? It seems to me that Miss Know-it-all, sorry, _Granger, _would desire to astonish the world with her abilities." He smirked, obviously pleased at how he had twisted his almost compliment. He waited for the stammering to start, the red-faced anger to begin. He might enjoy this errand more than he thought. Hermione did not deem to bestow upon him his intended reaction, however.

Pouring tea from a small blue kettle into even smaller blue mugs, she looked amused, wearing a tiny smile like a badge of courage under her petite nose.

"Actually," she replied, "I prefer that people don't assume that someone lives here. When I first came here, there were a lot of visitors, all trying to catch a glimpse of the _Elusive Hermione Granger,_" she waved her hands about in a dramatic manner, "or something like that. Anyway, it got rather tiring, always planting traps in the front lawn, or putting Jelly Legs jinxes on trespassers before they could get to the door, so, I decided to make the place look as uninhabitable as possible. So far it has worked pretty well, that is, until you showed up." She squinted at him suspiciously.

Severus opened his mouth, but found it void of words. She hadn't responded to his taunt at all, simply answering the question he posed in a polite and civil manner. Maybe he'd have to try harder. Something in the back of his mind said that perhaps he shouldn't be trying to bother her at all, but he quashed that little voice of reason immediately.

Instead of trying to come up with something to say to the fuzzyheaded brat, he chose to take in his surroundings. He noticed that the house was larger than it had appeared from the outside, yet still very small, just big enough for one person with minimal needs. He craned his neck to the left and located a small den detached from the kitchen in which he found himself. It contained a rather odd assortment of furniture. Severus was sure some of it would have looked decent if it had been matched with others of its nature, but thrown together in this mish-mash it resembled something a blind person would choose for their home. He was just thinking about voicing this sentiment when he spotted the most utterly atrocious armchair in the corner of the room. It rather appeared as if the midnight sky had gotten sick, and vomited all over it.

Deciding not to broach the matter -he certainly did not want to get into a furniture discussion with a female -he turned back to the kitchen. Hermione's back was to him as she stirred something in a silver pot on the stove. He took the opportunity to observe her without her knowledge. She had certainly grown up a bit since the last time he had seen her. That had been two years ago, at Potter's funeral, but two years seemed to have done a lot for the woman. For that is what he found himself referring to her as: a woman.

He had entered this house expecting to make a young person cower, just as he had when she had been his student, and yet she greeted him as an adult, offered him dinner even. It seemed he no longer had the effect on her he once did. Severus could not decide whether this pleased him, so he declined to think about it, instead noticing the _other_ ways Hermione Granger had changed over the years.

Ah, yes, Hermione Granger was definitely a _woman_. As she had chosen not to adorn the usual wizarding robes, Severus could see now what they had been hiding during the end of the war and after. She boasted a petite figure, not overly curvy, yet still distinctly female. Her wild hair served to make her body seem even more compact, but it suited her, a testament to the fact that large spirits could reside in small packages. As she began to turn, Severus quickly averted his eyes, and Hermione caught him glaring holes into her oaken cabinetry. She didn't quite stifle a snort as she started toward the table carrying a tray of stew and homemade bread.

Snape had just begun to rotate on the spot to view what was behind him when he heard a small cough. He spun back around to see an amused Hermione. She raised an eyebrow in his direction and smirked, an expression he did not remember seeing her wear when he had taught her in school.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you _do_ know that you're not restricted to that specific spot, yes? Do feel free to move around, rather than imitating rotating fan." Her voice shook with near laughter as she said this.

Severus's face took on a puzzled expression at the mention of the muggle technology. Hermione waved a hand flippantly.

"Never mind, references to common muggle household items are obviously lost on you. You know, you should have paid more attention in Muggle Studies when you were in school." She smiled at him, and Severus promptly dropped his jaw, "Anyway, there's food ready, maybe you can find something here to fill that gaping mouth of yours."

Who _was_ this woman? She resembled nothing of the war stricken girl that sat sobbing into Molly Weasley's lap at Potter's funeral. Here was Hermione Granger, _joking_with Severus Snape, a light jaunt in her step, and a glimmer in her eye. Perhaps her life away from civilization really had done some good. Severus found himself wondering why not all humans possessed the capacity to recover from war this nicely. Of course, there was the possibility that it was an act. After all, you could never trust a face these days, especially if it seemed genial.

"Yes, well," he said, trying to regain some menial amount of dignity, "I suppose I might."

Lifting his nose haughtily, he strolled toward the small table, wondering how to approach the question he was ultimately intending to propose to her. It seemed as if she was reluctant to venture back into society, so he assumed his request would not be all too well received. To ask an intentional recluse to work in a castle crammed with snot nosed children, well, did not seem like a very promising prospect.

All thoughts of the matter flew from his head, however, when a delicious scent wafted into his nostrils and forced them out, replacing them with thoughts of warm food which a growl from his stomach accompanied. His steps got a bit quicker as he approached the steaming bowls of stew decorating the table. As he sat down, he could not help but take a cheap jab at the girl.

"Should I pre-arrange a meeting with Madame Pomfrey before I go? I've lived too long to be finished off by a Gryffindor's atrocious cooking."

To his astonishment, she merely chuckled, a lower sound than Severus would have expected.

"Have you ever eaten rabbit before, Professor? It's really quite good; however, I fail to see how you can judge my cooking before you have even tasted it. But, I suppose if you're really that worried, you can just go hungry." She gave him a sickeningly sweet smile, and raised her wand as if to magically empty the bowl.

"No, no. Not necessary Miss Granger, just being careful. No need to get hasty." He really was very hungry, and the stew smelled fantastic. He picked the spoon up from the napkin beside his bowl and took a tentative taste, finding that the aroma was definitely indicative of the taste. He began to eat wholeheartedly, wondering where this woman had learned to cook so well.

* * *

When it seemed he had eaten all he could stand, Severus looked up from his bowl, to find Hermione staring at him intently. He raised a questioning eyebrow. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"I suppose you have are going to ask why I have actually invaded your home in the first place. Well, let's get on with it then," Severus pushed his chair back from the table and leaned farther into it, gaining a comfortable posture that Hermione had never witnessed in the man before. "Minerva has sent me to ask a favor of you. As your potions marks were higher than any other student in your year, and as you certainly proved yourself a competent potions supplier during times in the war that I was not present, she requests that you fill the position of Potions Professor at Hogwarts."

Hermione frowned.

"You haven't been, er, _fired,_ have you sir?"

"No, Miss Granger, I have not been 'er, fired', as you put it. I was offered the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and I accepted. However, this leaves my old position as Potions Master open, and it seems that the Headmistress, no matter how I may prod, can think of none she would rather fill that position than you."

"I see," for the first time since the two had entered the small cottage, Hermione seemed flustered. It was obvious that she didn't know whether to be flattered, or appalled. Severus decided to ease her anxiety a bit.

"Miss Granger, do not feel pressured to answer right away, you may have time to decide, if you require it." He stared at her expectantly.

"Yes, yes," she nodded her head briskly and tapped her fingers on the table, "Well, I certainly cannot decide right now, it's much too big of a decision to make on such short notice. Is three days too long for her to wait? I should be able to have an answer for you by then."

"I'm sure that would be acceptable."

"Well then, if you wouldn't mind returning in three days, I'd rather it be you, and not someone else. The less people that know where I live, the better." She looked at him hopefully.

Severus sighed in a put-upon manner.

"I suppose, Miss Granger. Who knew Gryffindors could be so needy." He had intended to insult her, but his tone lacked its usual rancor. He simply could not wrap his head around this new Granger enough to treat her as he always had.

Gratitude illuminated Hermione's face, and she jumped from her seat.

"Great! I'll see you then." She began ushering him toward the door, "Now, If you don't mind, I've got quite a bit of work to do. You caught me in the middle of a rather riveting novel."

As Severus stepped out of the small front door, he found he couldn't help himself.

"Miss Granger," he turned to face her frame standing in the doorway, "if you don't mind me asking, where did you learn to cook so well?"

The woman smiled, looking flattered and a bit curious, "My grandfather was a chef, I spent a great deal of time cooking with him before he died. Right before he passed away, he presented me with a collection of all the recipes he had invented. It also didn't hurt that I had a natural knack for it. Why do you think I was so good at Potions?"

"Ah," was all he could think of to say. For reasons unknown to him, he logged that bit of information into a newly created section of his brain he had dubbed 'Things About Hermione Granger I Never Knew'.

"Goodbye, sir, I'll see you soon," Hermione smiled, and raised a hand to bid farewell.

Severus gave a short nod in response.

"Goodbye, Miss Granger, you have three days." He turned his back on the tiny cottage, hearing the soft click of the door, and the shuffling of small bare feet on a stone floor.


End file.
